A Recipe For Disaster
by odyssey1
Summary: Over eighty miles to go and John is trapped in a car with a sleepy Dean and an irate Sam. With no means of evading the unspoken tension within the family, this is a recipe for disaster. John POV. Teen!Chesters.


**Title: **A Recipe For Disaster 1/1.

**Wordcount:** 1279.

**Rating:** PG13.

**Characters: **Sam (14). Dean (18). John.

**Warning / Spoilers:** General (for all aired episodes).

**Disclaimer:** SPN and all recognizable characters are owned by their various creators. No copyright infringement intended.

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_**A Recipe For Disaster**_

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"Okay. Tell me again, just why did we leave this time?"

John Winchester's hands tightened around the steering wheel. He loved his sons. God knew he loved them but his youngest, filled to the brim with the self-importance and emotional imbalance puberty seemed to grace some people with, was very close to do what countless ghosts, spirits and all those lovely things John liked to spend his time with hadn't managed to achieve: triggering another one of their infamous 'disagreements'. And those had a tendency to be become explosive.

"Daaaaaad?" Sam's bony knees 'accidentally' connected with the back of the driver's seat – a new and creative (and highly annoying way) Sam had found to draw attention to the fact that he was growing old enough to sit in front. Not to mention large enough as the boy grew like a weed. Unfortunately, so did his lung capacity enabling him to talk even more than he did before.

"Dad, stop ignoring me." Sam insisted and somehow managed to twist his body into a position that made it possible for him to grab the front seats and pull himself forward. John had to admit that the position did look uncomfortable and his hands loosened ever so slightly around the steering wheel. When this was over he was going to give the boys ample opportunity to stretch (or in Sam's case untwist) their legs. He cast a glance at his oldest, slightly amazed at Dean's ability to sleep through just about anything. The corners of John's lips twisted into a small smile when another bump hit him in the back. Sam was fidgeting again.

"You _promised_." There was a definitely whiny undertone in the teenager's voice now. Some sort of tremble John couldn't exactly place. Something emotional the older man shied away from. They didn't have time for emotional outbreaks. They didn't have the _luxury_ and Sam needed to accept that.

"Sam." There was a warning in John's voice that would have made a stronger man pause. Not so his son, either too foolish, oblivious or brave to care.

"What? Didn't you promise we'd stay a little longer? What happened to 'let's take a little break'? What happened to 'you can finish your school year in one place' for a change? I was...never mind." In a skill only Sam seemed to possess, the boy's voice went from sounding angry to sad to sullen within moments.

John sighed, fighting down the guilt his youngest was so skilled in triggering in him. Fact was, he really wanted the boys to have a break for once. Hell, he wanted a break himself! And yet, it was a weakness they couldn't afford to indulge. Better not even allow himself to go there.

"There's a job to do." John said, keeping his voice carefully neutral while Dean adjusted his position next to him, the small satisfied smile previously on his face making way for a thoughtful expression. Clearly Dean was thinking hard in his sleep.

"There's _always_ a job to do." Sam insisted, his knees connecting with the back of Dean's seat for a change. The older boy grumbled and turned around to face the window, his forehead leaning on the cool glass.

"Why do we have to do this job?" Sam went on, gaining momentum. "If you plan to hunt down every supernatural creature, then we'll never get a rest at all. We never get to live our own lives. We'll always be some sort of tools for some fu..."

"_Sam._" The warning was so evident in John's voice that it effectively silenced the boy for a moment. His patience was hanging on by a bare thread and Sam seemed to think it a good idea to poke at that thread. Relentlessly.

"We're doing this job. People are dying but if you prefer to go to school and do science fairs – be my guest." Evidently John's patience had suffered enough and he gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles stood out white against the tanned skin of his hands. "I just find it interesting that you of all people_, Mr. Compassion_, are so quick to leave people hanging." Some part of John realized that it was anger speaking for the most part and the moment the words were out, he already regretted his harsh tones. However, the damage was done. Sam recoiled, his eyes flashing with a temper another man might have recognized as eerily similar to John's.

"That's not _fair."_ Sam said fiercely, an anger underlying his words that seemed too strong – too intense - for a fourteen year old boy. It seemed too dark.

A shiver ran down John's spine and his eyes locked with Sam's as both Winchesters managed to glare at each other using the rear-view mirror. Stubborn as they were neither averted their eyes (and here John thanked whatever deity was currently listening that the street was empty and he didn't have to mind other cars). Repressing the fear that something was wrong with his boy, something John had only recently learned hints of, the man decided to go for anger rather than the chilling fear he couldn't quite shake at the thought that something had tainted his boy. That there was something dangerous in Sam, just waiting to break out and take control and hurt his child. John's eyes narrowed dangerously and Sam blinked in confusion, his slim shoulders slumping before he broke eye contact.

"Look." Sam said, his arms crossed protectively in front of his chest. "I know you're...I mean, I'm not like Dean."

John frowned. Where had that come from? Since when were they discussing Dean now? "I know you're not." John said, his gaze flickering to the map, lying crumpled in Dean's lap. Still over eighty miles to go, trapped in a car with a sleepy young man and a teenager John barely recognized as his son at times. He liked having two sons with very different personalities. He only wished there weren't some darkness threatening Sam. Something that went back to the yellow-eyed son of a bitch that killed his wife, John knew that much but details? No amount of research had helped him there._Something _had happened to Sam and it was John's duty to make sure this something didn't break out. It was John's duty to move on whenever some hunter with too much time on their hands picked up the rumors about his youngest and decided to take a closer look. And it was that very duty that kept the man from informing his children about it. Hunter or not, he was first and foremost their father and if that meant hiding the existence of the Damocles sword hanging over his youngest? Then this was exactly what John was going to do. Catching Sam's gaze in the rear-view mirror again, John could see his boy getting ready to argue again and almost imperceptibly shook his head. It figured that in order to protect his family he'd be forced to estrange them.

John turned up the volume of the radio the exact moment that Sam opened his mouth to continue their argument, the boy's voice being effectively drowned out. John received an irritated glare from Sam who sullenly slumped back onto the backseat while almost imperceptibly Dean started drumming the rhythm in his sleep.

John sighed. It was going to be a long, frustrating drive but if that was the only way he could keep his family safe? It was worth it.

Smiling grimly John accelerated. They had work to do.

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End file.
